


not the end

by vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 13:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13458792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: "Even when your world stops, the world around you keeps moving forward.  And you will, too."





	not the end

 

 

Dear John,

The last time I was here in Italy was with you.  It’s strange how it’s the farthest lands that brings memories closest to the heart.  

Grace finally saw me again, today.  I told her everything.  And she forgave me.

She also asked to never see me again.  

She said it with the kindest eyes, and the kindest voice.  She really is too good for this world.  Too good for anyone.  Too good for me.

She’s finally setting me free.

And before we parted ways, she also said... she would have loved to have known you too.  The real you.

I couldn’t stop talking about you.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Ms. Shaw found me.

She’s been running the Numbers in my absence.  She has been in regular contact with Detective Fusco; it seems that Lee has grown quite fond of her, ever since she saved his life.  Ms. Shaw has always been good with kids, and I’m happy to see her have a clearer grasp of reality, which is a far cry from when we last parted ways.  The Fusco family has been good to her.

I’d like to believe Ms. Groves would have approved.

Sometimes I still catch her staring into the distance.  Staring into the cameras.  Sometimes I think she’s having a silent conversation with the Machine.  I wonder if constantly hearing the voice of Ms. Groves in her ear is a comfort to her.

It’s a tricky thing, holding onto these memories.  

Sometimes, it’s what makes it hard to move on.

I wonder if that’s why whenever the Machine is talking to me, she never takes on your voice.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

It may have been the worst idea to introduce Mr. Tao and Mr. Pierce to each other.  I don’t know what the Machine was thinking in making them work together.

I tried to warn Mr. Pierce that he should protect his assets around Mr. Tao.  Mr. Pierce only laughed and said that Mr. Tao’s welcome to his share anytime.  Ironically, it’s what made Mr. Tao lose interest in hacking his way into Mr. Pierce’s sizeable funds.  He doesn’t like that it isn’t a challenge.

I suppose the Machine thought it’s a good idea to have them team up on me and insist that I socialise more.  They have been bringing me to horrendously loud parties with overpriced alcohol and horribly bland food.  You would have been amused to know that Mr. Tao still has terrible luck with women and Mr. Pierce is still terrible at making friends.

I don’t know why they keep inviting me.  I’m a poor stand-in for you.

Sometimes, I feel as if they pity me.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Ms. Morgan’s services still prove to be invaluable, though I have noticed that she has become rather more... subdued, lately.

She has been bringing Sencha green tea for me during our meetings.  I never ask how she knows, and she never tells me.  She only smiles at me in that mysterious way she does, though it is not quite enough to mask the sympathy in her gaze.

With the way she has been treating me, I feel as if I’m a widowed husband.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Mr. Durban has been out of commission for a while now that his wife has finally given birth.  He asked me to be their child’s godfather, and wanted to know if I have any suggestions for baby names.

I confess to some sentimentality when I named her Leila.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Ms. Rose is terribly fond of kittens.  She keeps bringing one back after wrapping up a case with a Number.  I don’t know where she picks them up, if there’s a take-out shop for cats that I’m not aware of.  I would have thought that Bear would scare them away.  Instead, they are now taking over his dog bed.

I’m now adding kitty litter to my regular grocery list, in addition to formula milk and diapers for when I need to stay behind and babysit Leila whenever Mr. Durban’s services are needed for the job.

I have unofficially become the Team Grandfather.  What has my life become.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

We have relocated to another library, another one of those I made Nathan buy a long time ago.  A lifetime ago, it seems.  I needed a bigger, safer place, now that I have to take care of several pets and a baby as well.  Though if I am to be honest, in many ways our work with the Numbers has been less... hazardous, than keeping up a daycare.  I am beginning to discover that the hard way.

Ms. Shaw is even more terrible at organising her arsenal than you had been.  I took it upon myself to install all the necessary precautions, and I am proud to report that unlike her namesake, Leila has not been touching any of Ms. Shaw’s explosives.  Leila happens to be more interested in the cats, though I’m not entirely sure that’s a marked improvement for her innocence, as Ms. Shaw named the cats after her guns. They wouldn’t answer to anything else, unfortunately.

Speaking of which, Nano is currently chewing on my tie.  I despair that he’s so fond of it.

It had been your last gift to me.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Bear has taken to sleeping with one of your suits in his dog bed, as it had been the only way to calm him down when he’s being anxious and restless.  I suppose it’s an unexpectedly beneficial side effect that the cats have a calming influence on him too.  Nano has dragged over my tie to Bear’s bed and they have been cuddling all morning atop your suit.

I wonder, were you a cat person as well as a dog person, John?  It was never in your file.  I guess I’ll never know.

I don’t know everything about you after all.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Mr. Han is a surprisingly formidable chess player.  Elias would have been pleased to be his opponent.

I’m losing my touch, I’m afraid.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

It’s your birthday today.

Six years ago today, I gave you this loft.  It really is quite spacious for one person, isn’t it?  I was overcompensating, I suppose. While I admit that I don’t actually know everything about you, I do know the places where you had been, where you had stayed, the homes you had made for yourself.

Agent Snow and Agent Stanton had provided you with far less than what you deserved—than what any decent human being deserved—and I suppose... I had been trying to compensate for all those years that you didn’t have someone to properly take care of you.

I guess my hubris got the better of me.  I wasn’t any better than either of them.

After all, I failed you too.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

I found your secret stash.  I confess that I’m alarmed to discover the amount of whiskey you kept in reserve, considering you were a recovering alcoholic.  

Even after all this time when I thought you didn’t need it anymore... did you think it would still serve as a comfort to you?

I am tempted to try now, myself.  Perhaps I can better understand you then, the way I couldn’t when... you were still here.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

I had never seen Detective Fusco so thoroughly angry.  Was he this frightening when he followed you to Colorado?  He may have missed his calling as an interrogator.  He can make anyone do his will, given the proper motivation.

I suppose I frightened him too, when he found me unconscious on the floor of your loft.  I don’t know how he knew to be looking for me, or where, but it was fortunate that he did, because he was able to save me on time.  

I didn’t overdose on purpose.  I just... couldn’t sleep.  I didn’t know what I was thinking, trying to spend the night at your place.

I guess... I just wanted to feel close to you again.

I could handle Detective Fusco’s anger.  I’d go as far as to say I deserve it.  He lost both of his partners because of me, after all.

But I find that what I couldn’t bear was the disappointment in Ms. Shaw’s eyes as she watched me from the foot of the hospital bed.

I let her down, again.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Detective Fusco has found himself a new partner in Detective Silva.  She’s good for him.  You would have been proud of her.

I imagine Detective Carter would have been, too.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

There’s a new TA in Gen’s school.  It’s been quite amusing to see Gen constantly terrorising her.  Ms. Mahoney has found herself a brilliant (if quite stubborn) opponent in a middle school student.  

Ms. Shaw has been showing up every now and then as a substitute teacher.  Perhaps she still wants to keep an eye on Ms. Mahoney, though I believe she’s no longer a threat.  It doesn’t stop Ms. Shaw from giving Gen tips, however.  I suppose Ms. Shaw’s training her as her protégée.

Despite my misgivings about Gen’s future career prospects, I’m glad to see Ms. Shaw so involved in Gen’s life.  It’s the first time in a long time that I have seen Ms. Shaw this... alive.

She has found her purpose again.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Darren and Taylor have become fast friends.  They have bonded over their similar experiences of being saved by the Man In a Suit.  They both appear to look up to him as quite the hero.

Darren has been sketching comic books about the Adventures of the Man In A Suit.  Taylor has commented that since the Man In A Suit is so much like Batman, their hero needs a Commissioner Gordon.  Darren took up Taylor’s suggestion for that role to be filled by a certain black female Detective.

The boys have set up a stand and have been selling their homemade comic books to their classmates after school.  It has gained quite the following.  Their most avid collector is a certain Mr. Dang.

Ms. Shaw has been teasingly calling me Alfred ever since this development.  She isn’t quite as amused when in return, I call her Robin.  

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Ms. Shaw has taken the lead in the field as the Primary Asset, with Mr. Durban as her back-up.  Mr. Tao, against everyone’s better judgement, has been entrusted to do the hacking for any information and digital assistance that they need.  He has proven to be quite adept at it too.  

Ms. Rose has been remarkable in her rotating covers, much like Ms. Groves used to do, except Ms. Rose is often more likely to argue with the Machine instead of agreeing, which I am glad about; I find that it’s healthier for the Machine to be constantly in dialogue with someone who doesn’t always go along with her plans, for a change.

Detective Fusco—along with Detective Silva—still offer assistance, especially when the team cannot avoid run-ins with the law.  Mr. Pierce has taken up the role of the corporate beard, as Nathan has once dubbed his own role before, although Mr. Pierce is alarmingly more cavalier in the disposal of his funds.  Perhaps he needs more time to learn how to rein in his flashy tendencies.  I suppose we are all fortunate that Ms. Morgan is around to clean up after him, although I suspect Mr. Pierce is unaware of just how deeply he is inside Ms. Morgan’s pocket for all the favours he owes her.

As you can see, the team is now akin to a well-oiled engine with all the parts functioning as they should.  I am just a spare part now, unneeded and disposable.

Replaceable.

I’m not quite sure why they still keep me around.  Perhaps they all simply pity an old man who won’t live for long now, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

I have to admit, I’m tired of the role of the damsel in distress.

I was quite amused that this burgeoning gang thought I was some sort of big boss who held the keys to the city.  I told them the truth: I am currently nothing more than a glorified nanny.

Mr. Durban came charging in first—he had inherited your propensity for destroying kneecaps.  It was almost pathetic how it wasn’t even much of a challenge for Mr. Durban’s skill set.

Ms. Shaw went directly to me while the fight was going on around us.  She deftly untied me and checked me briskly for injuries.  Whoever assessed her previously should have been fired; she is still, and always will be, a highly competent doctor.

Ms. Rose secured our exit strategy while Mr. Tao froze all the gang members’ funds.  I felt deeply ashamed when Detective Fusco arrived at the scene, as he made it adamantly clear the last time he saved my life how much of an idiot I had been.

He walked over to me, and I braced myself for what I thought was his upcoming tirade and apologised sincerely for wasting his time.  He stopped, looked directly into my eyes, and said that if anything had happened to me, you would have risen from the dead to kill them all.

Detective Silva pulled him away before I had a chance to react.  I wanted to tell him: I was willing to take that chance, if it meant we’d have you back.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

The Tillman-Ingrams dropped by today.  Will looked far happier than I have ever seen him.  Megan is due in a few weeks time, and she had gently pressed my hand to her belly when she felt the baby kick.

The ultrasound revealed this morning that they were going to have a son, and they wanted me to be the first to know.  Megan had smiled at me and said that she wanted to name their baby... John.

I had to excuse myself to the bathroom then.  Fortunately, Mr. Pierce and Ms. Morgan were attentive hosts and distracted the doctors from the sounds I couldn’t stop from escaping my mouth.

I can’t remember the last time I cried like that.  I don’t think I ever have, before.

John... you really are dead, aren’t you?  You’re not coming back at all.

I’m so, so sorry... for failing to save you.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Is this how it felt like when you lost Jessica?  

I can’t breathe.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

I don’t know if you ever knew how I saved Caleb’s life while you were incarcerated at Rikers.  It’s strange, how fate plays out, because he has now saved me in the exact same way.

The difference was, I saved him on a train station.

He saved me on a rooftop.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

Mr. Pierce has been texting me for pointers on how to propose to Ms. Morgan, given that she has already turned him down the last eight times he tried.  I advised him to stop trying, and reminded him that Ms. Rose and Detective Silva are both single.  Mr. Pierce replied that he’d like to actually live longer, and then curiously asked why I didn’t include Ms. Shaw in the options.  I told him that if he truly wanted to know, he should ask Mr. Tao.

Bear is currently dozing at the foot of my bed, with Leila sleeping soundly beside me.  Nano is purring loudly on my chest.  And I have just opened Will’s e-mail to me, where he attached their first picture with little John Ingram.

I suppose... I still do have something left to live for.

Everyone is relevant to someone, indeed.

 

* * *

 

Dear John,

There are two things I would have wanted you to know.

The first is this: my real name is Harry Dashwood.  

It’s why I proposed to Grace with that book.  I was going to tell her then.  And I wanted to tell you for the exact same reason.  Because this... this is the second thing I would have wanted you to know.

I love you, John.  I have always loved you.

And I’m sorry... that you never knew.

 

* * *

_Failure to deliver message_

* * *

_Are you sure you want to delete this message?_

* * *

 

I do know.  I have always known.

And my real name is John Harris.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reunite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461573) by [elbowsinsidethedoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor)




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